This is what I want, isn't it?

I took the keys to the dragon-mobile and walked out. I should be drawing instead of attending a class to learn how to make cats. I closed the car door and walked back in again. I don't want to draw. I have no idea what to draw. Making cats relax me. Shit! I hate cats. I will do dogs instead. I walked out of the cave and to the car. I really should be drawing. Mother Dragon gave me this really neat mechanical pencil for professional artists and I haven't tried a single line with it. Grunting, I stood between the car door and the cave door, unable to decide which one to open. What the hell is happening with me? Am I afraid of my goal or was it a wrong choice?

I read a book on how to achieve goals. It highlighted that choosing the right goal is critical. Sometimes we choose goals because we think they are right for us, but

deep inside we do it for the wrong reasons (i.e. to please someone, to fit in a group, because it's what we were told we should do, or we were raised to believe so.) The book said that many people achieve goals that don't make them any happier, or give them any satisfaction. That's because the goal wasn't in accordance to their values. Say someone has the goal of a better job with a higher income. She finds a high profile job, earns good money but has to devote most of her time at the office. She's not happy because she's neglecting her family. Family value is more important to her than higher income.  Therefore, we must first know our values in its order of importance so we can choose effective goals that will indeed enrich our life, so the book claims.

Last year I had a goal. I wanted to become a professional comic artist. The human figure on a canvas has fascinated me since I was a little dragon. Motion, action, stillness, emotions, a telltale in a single picture. I can stand in front of one of the classic masterpieces and lose myself in the details of the strokes, colors, shade and light. If I tell you about the time I saw part of the MET art collection, I bet the thrill in my voice and my dreamy expression would be as somebody else's telling you about the time they met the love of their life. My love escaped me for centuries. Life would always get in the way and I could only envy all those that courted her and got to make such great things.

A few months ago, I decided I would give myself the chance to court my love. I was determined. I started The Lord of the Clones as a training to develop the needed skills. It wasn't too bad for a total amateur. I even surprised myself a couple times. My love was being kind to me, even as I glimpsed at the more complex sides of art... My.Dragon.Goodness. I knew my love was the "high-maintenance" type but I think I forgot just how expensive and complex it has become. I look at my pencil and my pad and then gaze at all the technology and obscenely expensive software and my heart sinks, wishing to hide under a rock in embarrassment and shame.

You have many talents, but none is worth much. I hear again the ominous words I've been told for so long. No. I can't afford the needed technology and software to make this affair profitable. I don't think my mechanical pencil and my talent will get me too far without tools to compete with what is out there. I feel guilty of the time spent with my love, so I eventually find myself evading her. I don't enjoy the company. It distresses me. I make myself useful. I learned gardening because we have a big garden and not committed gardeners. I help in the home chores, in repairs. I offer to help people and I pray and meditate, a lot. That gives me peace.

But it still feels like an unrequited love. I resist the call. I want it because it's my heart's desire but I don't want it because it makes me feel bad. I feel ashamed because I encourage others to face their fears and go for their goals, but I feel guilty fighting for a love from which nothing "profitable" will come out. A voice tells me I should pursue what is giving me peace, because I need it. Another voice tells me I will die regretting what could have been but never was. Either way, the struggle impairs my drawing skills so much I can only doodle...and make cats. I hate cats! But my creations are kind of cuddling. Besides it's the only thing that has achieved the bee hive in my head go silent. Great for meditation.

So is this fear? Is it a value issue? What do you think?

I want to thank my very good friend Alex J. Cavanaugh for passing this award on to me. If it were for me, I would return it to him, because he's one of the kindest people I know online and the most deserving, really.

Rules says you have to give it to a person who encourages, inspires or helps others using their writing gift. Truth is, all those whose blogs I read have encouraged or inspired me at one time or another. That would be all those whose names are in the Dragon's Hall of Fame. They're there for a reason and this is pretty much it. Since I can only name one on this post, I'll just say thank you, Alex, you're too kind!